I’m not sure why yesterday’s story about vanishing honeybees made the front page of the New York Times, but I’m glad it did. Alexei Barrionuevo’s story is the kind of food-supply journalism I wish newspapers would do more in their Food sections. (This was a Business story.) It’s currently the NYT’s most emailed story, so there’s clearly an audience for it.
I’ve been delving into Indian food lately. An easy way to be influenced by India at home is to apply Indian spices, herbs and ingredient combinations to dishes you’re already familiar with. Before grilling meats, rub them with ground spices and aromatics you’ve never tried. Sautee broccoli with whole mustard seeds. Simmer lentils with curry powder and lots of garlic, ginger and chiles and have them over rice with a handful of cilantro on top. Be aggressive with flavor.
With that in mind, I made a rub for simple boneless skinless chicken breasts with ground cardamom (one of the spices I’m least familiar with), ground coriander, salt, red pepper flakes, garlic, lime juice and a little vegetable oil.
Man, broiled on both sides until deep brown, then deglazed with a little liquid and allowed to finish cooking, these were a nice escape from typical. The flowery, lemony bite of the cardamom was beautiful with the rich juicy chicken. I served them with Indian-influenced sauteed cauliflower (recipe to follow) and basmati rice.
Here’s the recipe:
While we research, develop and test recipes for the blog and the main site, we’re constantly working on how best to describe the seasoning of a dish. Will our readers and users measure salt? Is it physically possible to measure fresh ground pepper? When is the best time to season?
Saturday night while I was cooking lasagna for two friends from Birmingham, the seasoning question emerged. Lasagna is made of component parts — like noodles, spinach, ground beef, tomato sauce and cheese — that each need to be seasoned before they’re put together and baked.
When cooking dishes with component parts, I’ve found that aiming to have the dish emerge perfectly seasoned at the end often makes for a too-salty dish. This is especially true when you’re using pre-salted ingredients like mozzarella, parmesan and a ham hock.
Instead, I like to hedge by seasoning very lightly (a light even sprinkling of kosher salt and pepper over whatever I’m sauteeing), and tasting where possible so that each component is a little under-seasoned. This way the dish gets the baseline, permeating seasoning that’s hard to add later. Then, when the dish is almost done I can taste, see how the salty ingredients have contributed, and add more salt and pepper (and grated cheese) if I need to.
Here’s how it worked out with the lasagna:
A few weeks ago while his refrigerator was shot, Brys wrote about the pleasures of cooking with constraints. Since the new year, I’ve been working with one of the great cooking-related constraints: a pregnant woman.
The first casualty was mushrooms. We were driving home from the store, talking about something else, when Elizabeth said: “The thought of mushrooms makes me sick.” After mushrooms went, all vegetables went. Then, some of the vegetables — cucumbers, broccoli — came back. Then they went again. With most vegetables now it changes day-to-day.
By far the biggest blow to our kitchen life has been Elizabeth’s total and complete ban on garlic. The thought of the smell of garlic can turn her good day bad, so it’s forbidden for me, too. I’ve been tempted to sneak it into sauces, but she’s expecting that from me and her senses are on heightened alert.
The combination of her changing taste in vegetables and her distaste for garlic has led us to a lot of stir-fries. They’re quick and easy and can take on just about anything you’re craving (or, in Elizabeth’s case, just about anything she’s not not craving).
With smell, taste and texture limiting which ingredients we can use, we’ve started going to color as our guide.
It’s like a game: Which green can you stomach? Broccoli? Ick. Asparagus? Ick. Snow peas? Sure. Jalapeno? Sure. Which red/orange/yellow? Red peppers? Ick. Orange peppers? Sure. Red onion? Sure. Which pale aromatic? Garlic? (I have to ask.) Ick. Shallot? Ick. Ginger? Sure? And so on until we’ve got enough to tame the beast.
Don’t miss this week’s root souce on marjoram. If you haven’t subscribed to the root source, why not do it now?
Our recipe vernacular:
“Heat the oil in a 14-inch skillet over medium heat. When the oil heats and thins a little, add the garlic and onions and stir. Cook until the onions are soft and translucent, but not brown.”
“Heat the oil in a 14-inch skillet over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot and shimmering, and the zucchinni, red bell peppers and onions and stir.”
“Heat the oil in a 14-inch non-stick skillet over high heat. When it’s barely smoking, add the chicken pieces and stir. Cook, stirring often, until they’re well-browned all over.”
When you’re cooking with oil, does it make a difference when you add your ingredients?
If you haven’t subscribed to the root source, hear praise from a few loyal readers, then become one yourself. If you haven’t seen Curtis Stone work his magic on Take Home Chef, you ought to check it out. The show is one of the most entertaining and informative I’ve seen, and I’ve seen, um, maybe all of them. As a bonus, Curtis won’t shout at you, command applause when he uses garlic, tell you every dish is the “perfect” dish or giggle all over himself.
Inspired by today’s root source on marjoram and a recent episode of THC, last night I decided to roast a rack of lamb. Curtis made his version for a wet-behind-the-ears attorney Heather B. and her stunned boyfriend. I adapted it using marjoram and a squeeze of lemon.
More cookbook vernacular: “Heat the (oil, butter) in the skillet over medium-high heat. When it’s hot, add the onions and stir. When the onions are translucent, add the (other vegetables, ground beef, etc.)”
Why wait until the onions are translucent? What happens when they turn translucent?
Onions take on a mild flavor after they’re sautéed for a few minutes. As they go from opaque to translucent, the pungent, sharp flavor mellows. Their sugars emerge, giving off a slightly sweet smell. At this stage (James Beard called it the “delicate deep ivory”) the onions are at their pre-browned mildest.
For delicate dishes like soups (particularly light-colored ones), cook the onions slowly over medium heat so they don’t brown. For more assertive dishes like tomato sauce (I like Batali’s), cook the onions over medium-high heat and let them go translucent, then brown around the edges for deeper, richer flavor.
Related: Cookthink recipe search tool gets a makeover!
When I prep carrots, zucchini, asparagus, green beans, red bell peppers and other vegetables for dishes where they really stand out (like salads and stir-frys), I like to cut them on the bias. Cutting this way increases surface area, makes a thinner cut easier and looks better, all for the cost of one quick turn of the vegetable.
Just chop off and discard the the parts you won’t use (like roots and stems), then slice at a steep angle. Hold the vegetable firm against the cutting board for stability (think pool), and keep your fingers tucked under and away from the blade.
